


keep a light out

by navaan



Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Bat John, Character Study, Gen, Gen Fic, Legacy Heroes, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:41:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/navaan/pseuds/navaan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman sacrificed himself and Gotham slowly returns to normal, but Jim Gordon still sets up a new bat signal and lights it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	keep a light out

**Author's Note:**

> Dark Knight Rises with a hint of Gotham Central
> 
> You can also read this story [at LiveJournal](http://navaan.livejournal.com/158162.html).

For years it sat there, dismantled, nothing left but the base. The remains on top of the building allowed to remain as a dangerous reminder for all the young and impressionable detectives who work here that crime in this city comes in different guises, and that Harvey Dent had shown them a better way once years ago. 

A lie. A little white lie come back to haunt Jim Gordon tenfold.

So the first thing he does, after everything is over and Gotham is back in the hands of the people, is ordering for the signal light to be repaired. Batman may be gone, but his sign will shine above the city as a new reminder of a different kind.

When it's finished he leaves the signal on, knowing full well that there will be no answer tonight or any night. Batman - Bruce Wayne - is dead, his city has been saved from the worst possible catastrophe, although it's still lying in shambles and now is without a protector. He's not sure what he wants to accomplish by leaving the light on either. It's nothing but an impulse, but a feeling of satisfaction settles in as soon as the bat lights the night sky.

Is it his silent tribute to the man who died without revealing his true identity to anyone but him? Perhaps, but he wants to believe it is also more than that.

The Batman is no more, but he won't be forgotten. He will make sure of that. And this time the will do better than they did back when they'd tried to keep hope in the minds of the people by holding up a false white knight for them to remember. They'll hold up the memory of the person who died to save them instead. 

On the second day he goes out to switch it on himself and again takes his time to stand beside it, not so much watching the picture it makes in the cloudy dark sky, but watching the city. It's a silent vigil. A salute to a partner he feels he's let down, who let him down, to lost chances and opportunities.

A few raindrops fall, as if in warning of bad weather to come, but it never really starts to rain. He draws his beige trench coat a little closer around himself anyway, not taking his eyes away from the people, dark silhouettes, in the street. It's dark already, but not night yet. A family walks past below, a woman in a long wide coat and a man in a dark suit, carrying his coat over one arm, a little girl between them. He can't see any details at this distance, can't hear their voices or the child's laughter, can only imagine. It's all so familiar, bringing back the memories of the little boy whose parents were killed on a night like this, and Jim only wants to make the streets safe for families like this one.

They vanish from view and the door behind him opens and falls closed again.

One of the major crimes detectives steps up to him and pushes a Styrofoam cup into his hands. They all think this is his way of coping, of accepting, of moving on, so they don't call him on his slightly worrying behavior. He takes the coffee, grateful for the warmth that creeps back into his finger from holding it, and goes on waiting.

“Are we going to keep this on all through the night from now on?” Detective Driver asks as he stands beside him and looks out over the city. “A sort of memorial?”

“Perhaps,” Jim answers and takes a sip of his coffee. 

He likes Driver, but can't help but feel that it should be John Blake down there working at that desk, that he should have done anything in his power to stop the young man from leaving the service. Good detectives are hard enough to come by as it is. He wonders where the kid has gone, what is so important that he just vanished without a goodbye nearly six month ago.

An hour later he's finally ready to go back inside, contemplation finished, ready to go back down and tell his newest group of handpicked detectives that it's up to them now. Gotham has prevailed, but it will take another few month until the wounds are healed and by then new ones will have opened. The M.C.U. won't run out of work; not under these circumstances; never in Gotham. The times of the Harvey Dent Act are over now, and he's glad for it, but it will make his job harder again for a while. He would feel much better with some unofficial backup, knowing as he does that very soon the city will throw the next unthinkable thing at them, and this time there won't be a Batman to take it on.

He walks around the signal slowly to switch it off for tonight. 

One hand stuffed in his coat pocket he walks back to the door, ready to go back to work. He's already opened the door to let himself back inside when he hears a strange sort of rustling behind himself. It makes him freeze in his tracks. Familiar and eerie but impossible.

“Commissioner,” a deep, growly voice greets him and he turns, for a split second sure that he'll be meeting a ghost, although it's clearly a different, a _new_ voice.

It's not an apparition, but a solid, dark silhouette in the darkness. Batman. The costume is hard to see in this light, but Jim is sure it's new. 

And the man is new, too, of course.

“Batman,” he greets back, flatly.

“You were keeping the light on.”

He nods. “Didn't expect anyone to answer,” he says and turns around fully to look at this new Batman. This is more than familiar.

“That's why I'm here. You can still count on Batman.”

He doesn't smile. The growl is good, but he recognizes the young man under the mask. Their eyes meet and they both know. How this will go from now on, will be decided here and now.

He slowly nods again. “Good,” he says, “Batman.”

The dark figure nods back.

“Clearly we can't acknowledge you in any official capacity. He gestures to the signal that the detectives below have nicknamed their “batlight” and says: “This is only a memorial, of course.”

“Of course.”

“I hope you know what you're doing.” The shadow stiffens, waiting tensely. So he adds: “You just died.”

There is a low exhaling of breath and a nearly imperceptible nod.

Jim smiles. There is nothing more to say, not tonight, so he turns around and finally steps back inside. Behind him there is silence, but he knows when he's going to turn around and look through the still open door the roof will be empty.

But the city won't be anymore. Someone has picked up the mantle and hopefully someone who knows what he's doing. Certainly someone Jim thinks he can trust.

“Commissioner?” Captain Maggie Sawyer asks as he comes down the stairs. She's been freshly transferred from Metropolis after their department had to be rebuilt from scratch, still learning the ropes in this much more confusing city. “Finished your coffee?” she asks with a smile as he throws away the cup, knowing just as well as anyone that he's not just taking a few minutes on the roof to have a break.

“Yes,” he says, “Back to work now.”

“Sir,” Driver calls, he is leaning against the front of his desk, receiver still dangling from his fingers from the phone call he's just finished. “Two thugs were delivered to our door step, all tied up. They claim Batman did them in. They're downstairs.” He makes a telling gesture with his other hand, indicating that they're dealing with crazies again. They have them every other night. Usually without the thugs tying themselves up, of course.

“Check on them, please.” He watches Driver motion to his partner and leave.

Maggie Sawyer catches his eye. “Can't be him. He's dead, isn't he?”

He shrugs and keeps his face blank. “Who knows with these people? Maybe it's always been more than one.” 

She frowns.

Smiling a little, he walks back to his own office. The night has just begun and Gotham will make sure that they won't have time to be bored.

And he feels better now, knowing that Batman still has his back.


End file.
